I dream of dada

the friction between my yin and yang do not give off sparks the grindings are utterly corrupt the putrid wastes of veal remains for I am a young soul full of worms that give the robins red beasts in the spring like nipple clamps squeezing them out 7 hearts 2 brians hermaphridite lemmings lust for death in the hands of the boy wonder’s leotards the birds grab his feet and pull his legs off one pant at a time we are born through the composts of time out of the spandex and in to the fire in times like these you have bend over and pick your self up by the boot straps index fingers hooked in leather stumbling forward prime shank to be fucked or kicked the jocker’s dildo is shaped like a boot, and tastes like your initative. Continue reading →